We fall into the low orthopedic bed in Grams’ room—I’m struck for a moment by how wrong this is—but even more so how little I care. She’s not supposed to be back for another hour, and by then I can—fuck.
Grams is always telling me to be reckless, but probably noton her bed…
Too late.
I bump into one of the knobs, and the top of the mattress slides forward, forcing a laugh out of me as our lips and hips meet.
I love him.
I need him.
Despite the rollercoaster of the motorized orthopedic bed, our bodies join in seamless pleasure, and I clutch onto his shoulders, holding him along with my breath.
The tense urge to scratch at my neck builds with my pleasure—it’s embarrassing but persistent with every moment.
But Gil is Gil, so of course he notices. His eyes meet mine, and I wonder if he’ll tell me to stop.
But no—his claws drag across the back of my neck, satisfying the need and sending a pulse of pleasure through me. I moan into him—never judged, never unwanted. I’m seen and treasured in the arms of this man, and I never want to let him go.
My tongue trails along the fins on his neck, and his throaty gasp is all the encouragement I need to keep going. Gil fumbles to get out protection as we bump yet another knob on the bed and the entire mattress starts to vibrate.
In between laughter, he slips on a condom.
Suddenly, my giggles turn to moans as Gil begins to tease me, up and down, letting me feel each and every ridge slowly and slowly, ’til we’ve melted into each other, fully and completely.
All of him. Right here—right in my arms.
“Gil—” I moan, and he drives me closer, pleasure claiming both of us in waves until we’ve fallen into the depths, trembling and weak. Gil claims me with another kiss, and with a deep moan, tenses before melting into soft bliss alongside me.
In this room, in this bed, together again. Finally. We’re quiet for a while—breathing heavily as my head drops onto his chest, and I relax into the feeling of his claws.
I lean forward, planting a kiss on his lips, when light from the hallway creaks into the room.
“Mari, why is your bra—Oh!” Grams’ voice breaks into the room, and I scream, throwing the blanket over Gil as I stare at her.
She is standing in the doorway to her bedroom with the bra that was cast aside in the living room swinging from her hands.
We should explain.
I should explain.
Then Clawrece wiggles her way past Grams’ legs and hops onto the bed, taking this all as an invitation to a cuddle puddle—
“Oh my god!”
“Oh my god!” I echo back while Gil shouts muffled apologies from under the blanket, but his webbed hands are on full display, and there’s already a gator in the middle of the bed. I don’t think much is going to save this situation.
“You two!” Grams says with more authority than I’ve ever heard in my life. “Dressed. Living room. Now.”
Grams is usually forgiving. Someone who’s easy to get along with and understands little snags in a plan.
But as far as first impressions go, I’m worried there will be no coming back from this.
Chapter 36
Gil
The legendary “Grams.”
